


It's Not Just An Eggplant

by Arvari



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Is a Little Bastard, Aziraphale is Not Innocent (Good Omens), But He Wants You To Think He Is, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 23:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20182411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arvari/pseuds/Arvari
Summary: "Oh, look! There are even some cute pictures! Oh, a little sushi, how adorable. And an apple, Crowley is going to love it. What else? An eggplant...”“Yeah, about that,” Anathema said carefully, bearing in mind that she’s talking to an actual angel. “You should probably know that the eggplant emoji… is not just an eggplant.”Aziraphale blinked.“It isn't?”





	It's Not Just An Eggplant

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by THAT one Graham Norton Show video. You know damn well which one I mean. The one when Michael Sheen breaks David Tennant by explaining to him the proper use of CERTAIN emojis.  
I couldn't resist, could I?

“Right. Are you sure you can do this?” Anathema asked.

Aziraphale stared at the object in his hand and gave her a smile that was way more nervous than intended.

“Of course, my dear,” he said. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ve managed to handle electricity, I can sure handle… uhm...”

“A smartphone,” she offered. “Well, I guess that if you have any problems with it, you can always ask Crowley.”

Aziraphale muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “that’s the plan” and gave the screen a few experimental taps.

“What do you need it for, anyway?”

“Oh, I heard that it can do remarkable things,” Aziraphale grinned in a very un-angelic way. “Have you ever heard about _voicemail_? I won’t have to answer a customer’s call _ever again_.”

“Yeah, that’s… not exactly a new thing. No, Newt,” she said over Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I’m sure Aziraphale doesn’t need your help setting it up, you’ve already made one phone explode.”

“That’s no problem, really,” Aziraphale said. “I didn’t like the first one anyway, this one is much… Oh, look! There are even some cute pictures! Oh, a little sushi, how adorable. And an apple, Crowley is going to love it. What else? An eggplant...”

“Yeah, about that,” Anathema said carefully, bearing in mind that she’s talking to an actual _angel_. “You should probably know that the eggplant emoji… is not just an eggplant.”

Aziraphale blinked.

“It isn’t?”

“Can you even _believe it_, my dear boy?” Aziraphale said to a clearly astonished demon sitting on the sofa in the bookshop’s backroom. “And that’s not all of it, no. Apparently, there is also the peach – I’m sure you can imagine what a peach means. I must say it’s a very unfortunate depiction, I will never be able to look at an actual peach the same way… And then… _then_ you add the – you’re not gonna believe it, you add the _raindrops_ of all things and… You can do _anything_, really.”

It seemed that Crowley had transformed into a statue. He was sitting absolutely still, staring at the angel, his mouth hanging open. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses (in the days after the Armageddon’t, it kind of became his habit to take them off as soon as he was alone with the angel) and Aziraphale could clearly see the horrified expression in his eyes.

“Crowley?” the angel said.

The demon didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.

_Oh, dear Lord,_ Aziraphale thought. _I broke him_.

“My dear?”

Crowley’s mouth closed – very, very slowly.

“Please, tell me you’re joking, angel,” he said.

“I’m afraid not.”

The demon looked at the phone in Aziraphale’s hand like it was a time bomb about to go off and discorporate them both. Judging by his face, he wouldn’t mind it – at all.

“Oh, for somebody’s sake,” he growled. “That’s just… just so… Bloody _humans_!”

“To be completely honest with you, my dear, I rather thought that it was your doing,” Aziraphale admitted. “I even wanted to congratulate you for being such a _wily_ adversary.”

“No – yes – I mean – well – of course, of course,” Crowley stuttered, “the _emojis_ are my doing, absolutely, I admit that. But… but… I wanted them to _annoy_ each other with them, you know? Sending stupid pictures instead of actual words! I never thought… But it’s what humans always do, isn’t it? Like… like when I gave them poetry and literally five minutes later, the guy’s writing a poem about putting his… eggplant into her peach!”

Aziraphale quickly took his glass of wine so he could hide his chuckle behind it. It didn’t work. Crowley gave him a Look that would make humans run away and cower, but it only made Aziraphale smile wider.

“You cannot really blame them, can you? You must admit the act is quite pleasurable.”

“Shut it, angel,” Crowley growled. “Besides… The _eggplant_, really? It… the thing… it doesn’t even _look_ like an eggplant, does it? I’ve never seen one that looked like an eggplant! A cucumber at best. More like… a carrot. A _baby_ carrot in some cases. Have you ever seen one that looked like an eggplant? Why would anyone want to be fucked by an _eggplant_?!”

“Well, to be completely honest, I have seen some, you know, videos...”

Crowley’s eyes went wide. His jaw dropped. His body went completely still.

_Oh, dear,_ Aziraphale thought. _I did it again._

A few weeks after Aziraphale’s shocking emoji epiphany, Crowley was sitting on a bench in St. James's Park, minding his demonic business (he put a “wet paint” sign on each and every bench except his own and he was currently sipping coffee and watching a lot of people get confused and angry – and yes, it was a _proper_ demonic activity, no matter what Hell thought) when his phone gave a silent beep.

It was a new message – from Aziraphale. The angel was starting to get a hang of his phone, to Crowley’s amusement. Most of his text went something like this: “_Dear Crowley, would you be so kind as to bring me a slice of carrot cake from our favourite café on your way to my place? Thank you __in advance__. Yours Sincerely, A.”_

This one… Well, it was certainly different.

Crowley felt his jaw drop once again.

The text consisted entirely of emojis and it went like this – an angel, a smiley with its tongue out (_they’d never even discussed that one, for goodness’ sake!_), a demon, a peach, an eggplant… and lots and lots and _lots_ of raindrops.

Crowley stared at his phone for a full minute. He was glad for his sunglasses, because people around him couldn’t see his eyes blink and blink and blink _again_, since this must have been some kind of a hallucination, Aziraphale couldn’t have sent this, the angel would never…

Except that he absolutely _would_, the bastard.

Crowley jumped to his feet, put the phone in his jacket pocket (his pants being so tight he could barely fit his thumbs in the pockets, not to mention a phone) and headed to the Bentley. He didn’t run, of course. He would never run. It was obviously just a very fast power walk.

He’d make the particular Effort Aziraphale clearly wanted him to make (Crowley didn’t mind, oh no, it was probably his favourite Downstairs Arrangement, especially when the angel’s _smiley with a tongue out_ was involved) on the way.

Screw putting “wet paint” signs on benches. Tempting an angel, that was the proper demonic work. And no one had to know that it was actually the _angel_ who did the tempting.

The phone gave another beep.

It was a photo this time. Crowley was pretty sure that neither he nor anyone else had explained to Aziraphale how to take photos with his phone. He had no idea how Aziraphale even knew it was _possible_. But there it was, a photo of… of…

Crowley felt his mouth go dry.

Now _that _was obviously very inappropriate. He should know. This particular kind of pictures was one of his greatest accomplishments. And as always, it backfired horribly.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. The angel’s considerable Effort was still on the screen. Crowley could hear some innocent passer-by gasp.

He pocketed his phone again and this time, he really _did_ run.

Oh, _heaven_. He should probably send Anathema some flowers.


End file.
